


Friends, Both Organic and Nimble

by Ntjnke



Category: The Colbert Report, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
Genre: Gen, Jon Stewart - Freeform, RPF is still FICTION, Stephen Colbert - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6962707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ntjnke/pseuds/Ntjnke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When forty years through the desert and the path of good intentions merge to make a FNFF rabbit hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends, Both Organic and Nimble

**Title:** Friends, Both Organic and Nimble

 **Series:** TDS, pre-TCR era.

 **Pairing:** Jon and Stephen

 **Rating:** PG-13 (Language)

 **Word Count:** ~2000

 **Author:** [](http://ntjnke.livejournal.com/profile)[**ntjnke**](http://ntjnke.livejournal.com/)

 **Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. .

 **A/N:** Fic completely un-beta’d. My apologies in advance for the typos. For [](http://towel-lord.livejournal.com/profile)[**towel_lord**](http://towel-lord.livejournal.com/) and [](http://kribban.livejournal.com/profile)[**kribban**](http://kribban.livejournal.com/) in [this thread.](http://community.livejournal.com/fakenews_fanfic/971147.html)

 **Summary:** When forty years through the desert and the path of good intentions merge to make a FNFF rabbit hole.

 

Friends, Both Organic and Nimble

  
_“Ribbit.”_

“Yes, that’s right, Peter. We need a duck costume. Or maybe a goose. I don’t know. I need someone to look like a big damn bird.”

_“Ribbit.”_

“What was that? No, sorry, man. I just could swear I heard a freakin’ frog in my office.”

From the corner of his eye, Jon saw Stephen hovering at the door. When Stephen caught his eye, the fleece-armored cast member made shooing motions with his hands. Clearly, he didn’t want to interrupt the call. Jon gave him a grateful smile, turn back to his computer, and continued with his conversation.

_“Ribbit.”_

“Dammit, Pete, give me a sec. Hey Stephen?”

A quick glance around the office made it seem that Stephen had already left, likely because he wanted to return when Jon was done with his business calls. Which was a damn shame because Jon would love to have someone confirm that he wasn’t loosing his mind. Maybe it was something in the building. The walls creaked at his mother’s house. Maybe in New York they croaked.

“No. Sorry Pete. Someone was at my door. Yeah. Yeah. That sounds great. Is it okay if I have Janet call you and work out all the details?”

At the edge of his vision, Jon saw Stephen pounce on his coffee table. Jon loved the man to death, but sometimes he took method acting too far.

“I really appreciate this. You don’t even know. We’ve been looking all over the city, and you wouldn’t believe how hard…”

Stephen had pulled his fleece off, and was on all fours. To the casual observer, he resembled a masochistic Olympic level yoga fanatic.

This was bad.

“Uh-huh. Well, thanks again, Pete. I owe you one.” Before his former roommate even had a chance to try and continue the conversation, Jon had the cell snapped shut. He turned to give Stephen his full attention.

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

********

  
Stephen was the first to admit that it took a lot to fluster him. He wasn’t easily embarrassed. He loved attention, regardless of where it came from. But this time, in this particular instance, he would have preferred a magical rock that provided instant privacy. Or protection.

Either really.

Stephen pulled his arm back from under the couch, sat down on one of it’s corner cushions, and looked at his hands.

“Jon, there is a strong possibility that you may become angry at me.”

Sweet Jesus. Did that one sentence just make Jon sit up a little straighter?

“Now, before you _get_ angry, I just want you to know that I had the best of intentions.” Stephen moved from the couch towards Jon’s desk. Well, not too close. Jon apparently understood already that Something Very Bad had happened.

Rule 1 of the SNAFU Ninja: Stay back. Far back.

“It’s just…every year you take the time to bring the kids something for Easter. You’re always uber busy, the studio is a mess, but you make time to come to our Easter dinner. I wanted to do something to say thanks.” At that, Jon planted both of his feet on the floor and gave Stephen his full attention.

Oh. _No._

“Stephen, what’d you do?”

“I just wanted to celebrate Passover with you this year! I brought crackers, um…matzah?...and wine, and even talked Evie into making some lamb.”

“Stephen…”

“Maybe I went a _little_ too far.”

“Stephen…”

“I...” Stephen looked at his feet. Then at the wall. Then at the ceiling fan that last summer he had declared a threat to humanity. “I may have gotten you a frog.”

“A frog?!”

“He would’ve been a nice office pet! Then you would have something to remind you of the holiday, and something…I don’t know…organic?...in your office…”

Rule 2 of the SNAFU Ninja: Give Jon time to count to 100.

“They would have been great pets, Jon.”

Stephen didn’t know Jon could still move that quickly. He was just, suddenly, in front of Stephen, looking up at his coworker with an expression Stephen knew all too well.

“They?”

“Them. 'It'…plural.” Stephen backed a little toward the door. “Your frog needed a friend!”

“Where are the frogs, Stephen?”

“I bought an aquarium for them and everything!”

“Where are the frogs, Stephen?”

“And then I left the container in your bathroom while you were at rehearsal, thinking that if I shut the door they couldn’t get out.” Stephen had somehow managed to wedge his entire frame between the bookcase and the bathroom door. He knew he had about two seconds to make his case.

“Buttheygotoutandnowyouhave12frogslooseinthebuiliding.”

Stephen had always loved being nimble. He just hadn't realized it had so many useful work applications. He’d managed to lock himself in the bathroom before Jon even had a chance to lunge.

His boss, his friend, had given up counting to a hundred.

Stephen was absolutely sure they could hear him down in _accounting_.

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Kneeling on the bathroom floor and speaking through the keyhole was a perfectly acceptable form of adult conversation. Really. It’s the best way to be heard when one is willingly locked in a bathroom.

Stephen tried to explain. “I got a deal, Jon! I was going to give you two, and then bring the rest to the church fair this weekend for the carnival games. It really wasn’t that bad a thing to do!”

Jon, for a small person, possessed great talent for kicking doors. Stephen hoped, for his sake, that he was wearing his thick boots today. Then again, he felt relatively comfortable assuming he was. When did Jon not wear them?

Jon’s voice, Jon's _whisper_ , was surprising close for being heard through a door. “Do you know where any of them are, Stephen?” Ah, he was speaking into the keyhole.

“Um, I think they’re all still in your office.” Please. Please please please please please.

“You think?”

From outside Jon’s office, Sam’s scream was a thing of blood-chilling beauty.

 

********

It took a few weeks for Jon to forgive him.

Well, it took a few weeks, a box of chocolate, 10 voicemails of apology, and a small afterhours cast-based extermination team, but Jon did eventually forgive him.

Stephen knew the dark times were over when Jon e-mailed him to come to his office after work. That was the sign. Jon hated staying after work, and always left as soon as he was done.

Unless he wanted to chat with a friend.

And he was inviting Stephen.

So Stephen was (finally) safe.

Firmly denying that he had any fear of his boss and friend of nearly 5 years, Stephen knocked quickly on Jon’s office door and let himself in. Jon, once again, was at his computer, and Stephen, once again, headed for the couch.

Where he watched Jon type an e-mail.

And check his blackberry.

And eat a bag of chips. Slowly.

“Um, Jon? Why’d you…”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about this whole plague of frogs business. And I’ve decided that while it was a _damn fool stunt_ , Stephen, you had your heart in the right place.”

Stephen let himself breathe.

Jon kept checking his e-mail.

“Your brain on the other hand...”

With a sigh, Jon turned towards Stephen and rested his elbows on his knees. “Stephen, as much as I can’t believe I’m freakin’ saying this, thank you for thinking of me at Passover. No one’s done that in years.” Pushing himself up from his office chair, Jon crossed the room towards his friend and plopped onto the couch next to Stephen.

“Trace tries. Almost every year. But to her it’s not Easter, and Easter, in her mind, is really for kids anyway.” Jon leaned back against the arm of the couch and gave his friend a critical eye. “Honestly, the last person who tried to do something for me, just me, at Passover was my mom.”

Stephen turned towards Jon at that.

“You’ve heard me talk about holidays at my house. I’m not going to go over it all again. But since you tried I’m going to let you celebrate Passover with me the way my mom celebrated Passover with me when I was kid.”

It was a given. Stephen got excited.

“But first, you gotta promise me. No more planning Passover surprises.”

“Jon! It was a mistake! A horrible, stupid, hilarious mistake, but you don’t think I wanted that frog to end up in the…”

“Promise.”

Stephen sighed. “I promise.”

“Scout’s honor?”

A snort, a wave of the hand, and Jon found out that Stephen Colbert had indeed once been an actual boyscout. Well, cubscout. Two fingers up, right hand over his heart, Stephen gave a chagrined smile and promised. “Scout’s honor.”

“Good. Now get over here.” Jon scooted himself to the edge of the couch and pointed to the floor between his feet.

“Jon, I’m pretty sure your mixing up your childhood memories. That was college, probably senior year…”

“Get over here.” Hands on his knees, Jon just looked at his friend, and waited to see what what the taller man would do.

Stephen was a cat. He only had one life, possessed no sense of balance, and almost never landed on his feet. But he was curious. Constantly curious.

He sat.

The sensation of _Jon Stewart_ leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Stephen was, quite honestly, one of the biggest surprises of Stephen’s life. With a few simple movements, Jon tucked his legs around Stephen’s sides, wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and placed his lips next to Stephen’s good ear.

“If you tell anyone I did this, I’ll kick your ass.”

A snort was the only appropriate response.

“Okay, here we go.” Behind him, Stephen felt Jon shake his shoulders, take a deep breath, and let it go. And then he heard _singing_.

 

_In dem Beis-Hamikdosh_   
_In a vinkl cheyder_   
_Zitst di almone, bas-tsion, aleyn_   
_Ihr ben yochidle yideln vigt zi keseider_   
_Un zingt im tzum shlofn a ledeleh sheyn._   
_Ai-lu-lu_

_Unter Yidele's vigele_   
_Shteyt a klor-vays tsigele_   
_Dos tsigele iz geforn handlen_   
_Dos vet zayn dayn baruf_   
_Rozhinkes mit mandlen_   
_Slof-zhe, Yidele, shlof._

Stephen had always suspected that Jon would have a decently pleasing singing voice if he ever tried. What he was hearing, though, was a sound he realized that no one else in the world had probably ever heard. Except maybe Nate.

 

 

_In dem lidl mayn kind,_   
_Lign fil nevues_   
_Az du vest amol zayn tsezeyt oyf der velt._   
_A soykher vest du zayn fun ale tvues,_   
_Un vest fardinen in dem oykh fil gelt._   
_Ai-lu-lu_

_Un az du vest raykh yidele._   
_Zolzt du zikh dermonen in dem lidele._   
_Rozhinkes mit mandlen,_   
_Dos vet zayn dayn baruf._   
_Yidele vet alts ding handlen,_   
_Shlof-zhe, Yidele, shlof._

When the song was finished, Jon pulled him closer, kissed him on the top of his head, and gave him a hug.

“Pesach Same'ach, Stephen.”

A gentle push on his shoulders from behind, and Stephen clambered to his feet. Jon followed, moving towards the closet to get his jacket. When he spoke, he voice was surprisingly conversational.

“Every year before the guests showed up my mom would sing me that lullaby. She said the best part of Passover was spending time with the people you love.”

Jon put his cap on his head and pulled on his jacket.

“Thanks for celebrating with me Stephen.” A smirk crossed Jon’s face. “You’re a mensch. Lock the door behind you when you leave?”

Stephen watched, propped against Jon’s desk, as Jon exited the office. He was stunned.

And he would never get tired of knowing more about Jon Stewart.

The End

Notes:  
1\. "Rozhinkes mit mandlen" is actually a beautiful lullaby. [Listen here.](http://www.hebrewsongs.com/?song=rozinkesmitmandlen)  
2\. Pesach Same'ach = Happy Passover


End file.
